“So, Chuck,what’s your favorite season as long
as we’re on the topic this afternoon?” Dave said from the porch rocker,
anticipation in his eyes. His hand swiped his graying mustache.
Chuck
glanced at his dog Rascal sleeping at his feet on the family sun porch. He settled
back in the porch easy chair for another of his frequent chats with neighbor
Dave. But, before replying, Chuck paused as though recalling past events.
“September,” Chuck said, a sly grin
forming.
“No,
you misunderstood.” Dave leaned forward, curiosity in his eyes. “Season. I asked
what season is your favorite? And why?”
“And
I said, September,” Chuck replied. “To me it’s a season all to its own. That
hasn’t always been the case.” He slowly reached down and patted Rascal. “For me
it’s just special.”
“Okay,
I’ll accept that you view September as a season.” Dave relaxed, anticipating one
of Chuck’s usual colorful responses. When Chuck didn’t respond as expected, Dave
continued. “So, what’s special about September? For me it means football, fall
colors, the grand kids, Jimmy, for instance, beginning school. Judy’s excited about going into Junior High.
Fran and Phil expect a baby in a couple of weeks. I know similar things are
going on with your family. There’s a lot to enjoy, things to be thankful for in
the fall. But I asked you about a season.
You said September. For you it was somehow
special. I’m waiting.”
Chuck
turned again to the scene beyond the porch railing as though looking for
something in the distance.
“Yes,
September is special for me in a way you couldn’t know,” he said. “I haven’t
mentioned it before but, since you insist…well, let me tell you a short story.
“In
the fall of my senior year at the university, I had a really full schedule,
football season you know, and extra classes to complete my major. On top of
that, I’d been elected fraternity president for the year. One of the new pledges,
Willy Horne, had become my roommate. You
remember “Wee Willy,” short, lots of energy and often more mouth than called
for.
“The
university sponsored mixers held in the women’s gym. The dances were held in the evening of the
second, third and fourth Friday at the start of each school year.
“At
that time Willy hadn’t linked up with any girl, and in fairness, had been
trying to get into studying. I hadn’t
dated with any regularity either, and was focused on getting my stuff together
for the academic challenge ahead.
“When
Willy discovered that I hadn’t planned to attend the evening’s mixer he was all
over me to go and maybe introduce him to some of the girls. Finally, to shut him up, I agreed to
accompany him, but told him I’d stay no more than a half hour then come back to
work on a paper due Monday morning.
“Willy and I went in the gym’s north
entrance that evening. A good crowd had gathered by 8:30. Willy looked around,
decided he didn’t need any help from me, and took off on his own. I remember him
minutes later dancing with a tall, beautiful blonde. I wandered around, didn’t
dance, talked briefly with some of the guys. After about twenty minutes I’d had
enough and decided to head back to my homework.
“I turned toward the entrance and
stopped. A pair of beautiful redheads stepped through the door. Just inside they hesitated, looked around as
though looking for friends, and appeared to be discussing something. I walked
toward them hoping at least one of them would dance with me. One of the guys approached the pair before I
reached them, and asked one to dance with him.
I walked faster. When I was about three feet behind the other girl, she
started to turn toward the door but stopped as I approach.
"'Hi!
I’m Chuck. May I have this dance?' I was stunned at my audacity. I’d
never been that direct before.
“She looked up at me and hesitated.
Her sparkling blue eyes held me and emphasized a beautiful smile. Well, we
danced together and chatted until the dance ended.”
“Okay, ” Dave paused and grinned. “You
said it was special. What did I miss?”
“When I returned to my room late that
evening, Willy was sitting up apparently attempting to study.”
"'For a guy who wasn’t going to go,
tonight, Willy said, you sure changed fast. How did it go?'”
“I stared at him, my mind in a whirl
for a minute or more, unable to say what I felt. 'September, this Friday, will
always be special for me.' I swallowed then grinned and said, 'I’ve just met my
future wife.'”
Dave grinned. “Yes, I agree.
Special.”
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